the organ—­
      Who’d think there would be such a crowd! 
    Oh, I mustn’t look round, I’d forgotten,
      See, Charley, who was it that bowed? 
    Why—­it’s Nellie Allaire, with her husband—­
      She’s awfully jealous, I know,
    Most all of my things were imported,
      And she had a home-made trousseau. 
    And there’s Annie Wheeler—­Kate Hermon—­
      I didn’t expect her at all—­
    If she’s not in that same old blue satin
      She wore at the Charity Ball! 
    Is that Fanny Wade?—­Edith Pommeton—­
      And Emma, and Jo—­all the girls! 
    I knew they’d not miss my wedding—­
      I hope they’ll all notice my pearls. 
    Is the carriage there?—­give me my cloak, Jane,
      Don’t get it all over my veil—­
    No! you take the other seat, Charley—­
      I need all of this for my trail.

III.  DIVORCE.  A.D., 1886. The Club Window.

    “Yes, I saw her pass with ’that scoundrel’—­
      For heaven’s sake, old man, keep cool! 
    No end of the fellows are watching—­
      Go easy, don’t act like a fool! 
    ’Parading your shame’!—­I don’t see it. 
      It’s hers now, alone; for at last
    You drove her to give you good reason,
      Divorced her, and so it’s all passed. 
    For you, I mean; she has to bear it—­
      Poor child—­the reproach and the shame;
    I’m your friend—­but come, hang it, old fellow,
      I swear you were somewhat to blame. 
    ‘What the deuce do I mean?’ Well, I’ll tell you,
      Though it’s none of my business.  Here! 
    Just light a cigar, and keep quiet—­
      You started wrong, Charley Leclear. 
    You weren’t in love when you married—­
      ’Nor she!’—­well, I know, but she tried
    To keep it dark.  You wouldn’t let her,
      But laughed at her for it.  Her pride
    Wouldn’t stand that, you know.  Did you ever
      See a spirited girl in your life,
    Who would patiently pose to be pitied
      As a ’patient Griselda’-like wife
    When her husband neglects her so plainly
      As you did?—­although, on the whole,
    When the wife is the culprit, I’ve noticed
      It’s rather the favorite role. 
    So she flirted a little—­in public—­
      She’d chances enough and to spare,
    Ah, then if you’d only turned jealous—­
      But you didn’t notice nor care. 
    Then her sickness came—­even we fellows
      All thought you behaved like a scrub,
    Leaving her for the nurse to take care of,
      While you spent your time at the club. 
    She never forgave you.  How could she? 
      If I’d been in her place myself,
    By Jove, I’d have left you.  She didn’t,
      But told all her woes to Jack Guelph. 
    When a girl’s lost all love for her husband,